


For The Greater Good

by moonix



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew is very gay and very obvious and also very cold, Autumn, Cold Feet, Cold Weather, M/M, Neil has a lot of childhood joys to catch up on ok, Neil is a smug little shit, Spooky pants, This is entirely self indulgent and a little bit silly I'm sorry, flirting and teasing, let them live, soft things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 14:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12170844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/pseuds/moonix
Summary: In which Andrew resents being cold and Neil wants to go for an autumnal walk with his boyfriend.





	For The Greater Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpangleBangle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpangleBangle/gifts).



> For Reilly, who requested "autumnal prompt - cold appendages and warm blankets :D" - have some silly seasonal boyfriends being smitten with each other, enjoyyy xxx
> 
> Loosely inspired by [this comic](http://eliasericson.tumblr.com/post/23936123314/since-this-got-about-600-notes-i-thought-it-was) :D

Andrew fidgets his ice-cold feet under Neil's shirt, ignoring the hiss as Neil sucks in a surprised breath. He's tried an extra pair of socks and Nicky's warmest fleece blanket and tucking his mug of hot chocolate between them but nothing helped; it's time for more drastic measures, meaning his furnace of a boyfriend who is warming up the couch still hot and steamy from his shower, wearing only a t-shirt and a ridiculous pair of spooky Halloween underpants.

“Jesus,” Neil wheezes, loosely curling a hand around Andrew's ankle. “You're an icicle.”

Andrew grunts and shoves his feet deeper under Neil's shirt, leeching warmth from his belly. He winds one more coil of scarf around his neck and sinks back down under the blanket, trying to find a way to hold his book so he can read it without actually exposing his hands to the cold air. It's slow progress – the book is thick, the print small, and Andrew has never been a fast reader, courtesy of too many school changes and bookless, careless foster homes. Still though. He is determined to finish it; devours it at his own pace, painstaking as it is.

Gently, Neil's hands start to rub warmth into his feet through the fabric of his shirt. Andrew keeps his eyes studiously fixed on the page, but the letters slip away like sand.

“Foot fetish?” Andrew hums. His voice crumbles a little mid-word, traitorously dry, and he can feel Neil smirking at him from the other end of the sofa.

“Wouldn't you like to know."

Andrew doesn't dignify that with a response and slides himself even further into the cushions, holding his book close to his face to hide any wayward expressions he might be making.

“I'm going for a walk later,” Neil decides, leaning his head back against the sofa. “Do you want to come?”

“You literally just went for a run,” Andrew grumbles. He tucks his chin into his scarf and turns a page, then realises he didn't actually finish reading the last one and has to go back.

“Yeah, so?”

“ _So_ , fuck off.”

Neil makes a little sound somewhere between offense and amusement. “Well, that's mature,” he mutters, trying to tug Andrew's feet out from under his shirt with limited success. Andrew can feel his toes again; he's certainly not going to relinquish this prime position any time soon, and if it keeps Neil inside for a couple of hours, even better. “It's really nice and sunny out,” Neil argues, giving up on his feet. “There's all these piles of leaves on the campus green that I haven't jumped in yet, and we could get you a pumpkin spice latte after.”

“You are like a child,” Andrew tuts. “Sit still and let me read my book in peace.”

Neil whines but makes a valiant effort at not fidgeting in his seat. It lasts all of five minutes before his leg starts bouncing. Andrew ignores him and reads another paragraph, then reads it again because he gets distracted halfway through by the fact that Neil's underwear is haunted by tiny cartoon ghosts. He's going to kill Matt for buying him these atrocities – there's an entire pack in Neil's drawer at the moment, boasting a selection of autumnal prints, from carved pumpkins to candy corn and tiny bats to dancing skeletons.

The ghosts are Andrew's least favourite. They're so terrible, he thinks, that he might have to take them off him later.

For the greater good.

“Andrew,” Neil pouts. “Andrew, my feet are cold.”

“Should've worn socks,” Andrew says unsympathetically, rubbing his own feet together under Neil's toasty shirt.

“I have to pee,” Neil tries. “I'm gonna wet myself if you keep kicking me in the stomach.”

Andrew gently prods Neil's lower belly with his toes, making him squirm and whine and then giggle when he happens on a ticklish spot just under his ribs. Andrew sighs and pulls his feet out from under his shirt as a reward for that lovely noise and Neil jumps up with a triumphant “ha!” and proceeds to nearly fall over when his own feet get tangled in Andrew's blanket.

It's a miracle how this boy manages to hold on to his racquet on the court, Andrew thinks, eyes tracking Neil's blissfully bare legs as he makes his way across the room, graceful and loping now that he's regained his balance.

He gets absorbed in his book again, tucking his feet in the gap between sofa cushions to try and hold on to Neil's warmth for as long as he can. When Neil comes back the spooky ghost underpants are covered up by a boring pair of leggings, though Andrew finds a smidgen of joy in how beautifully tight they are around his ass.

“You sure you want to leave the house like that?” Andrew asks pointedly. By now only his eyes and the tips of his fingers are poking out of his blanket cocoon and he is seriously considering just giving up on his book and going into hibernation. Sleeping for a couple of months sure sounds more appealing than a new Exy season.

Neil frowns. “Why? What's wrong with my leggings?”

“Nothing,” Andrew drawls. “Everything.”

“Are you sure you don't want to come? I'll buy you that carrot cake you like.”

“I do not like carrot cake.”

“Chocolate, then. Come on, the fresh air's gonna be good for you,” Neil wheedles, pulling on his boots and the ridiculous fox ear beanie hat that Dan bought him last year.

“I can get fresh air on the roof,” Andrew says. They spent a few hours up there last night, Neil's hair lighting up copper and red in the autumn sun, passing the silence back and forth between them like a shared cigarette. It still feels disorienting to think about the fact that the others have gone to Columbia without them, but Andrew is learning to let go of that particular leash a little bit, and there are benefits to having Neil all to himself in the dorms too.

“Cigarette smoke doesn't count as fresh air,” Neil points out ruthlessly. He throws Andrew's Vans at him and digs out a pair of gloves that belong to Kevin. They, too, land in Andrew's lap.

“Are you still wearing the ghost pants,” Andrew blurts out without meaning to, picking up one of the gloves by the thumb and staring at it like it's a dead thing. Neil looks up from where he's shrugging into a sleeveless jacket and quirks an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he says slowly. “Why?”

“No reason,” Andrew says quickly and swings himself up from the sofa, shaking off the momentary dizziness and the remains of his blanket. He slips into his shoes but gives the gloves a withering look and leaves them on the floor.

Neil is grinning when he makes it to the coat rack, holding out Andrew's jacket for him. Andrew endures the indignity of being helped into it but jerks away when Neil tries to sneak a beanie hat on him as well. Andrew half-heartedly attempts to shove him into the coat rack and Neil giggles and dances just out of reach.

“You know,” he says as they lock the door behind them, “if your feet get cold again, you can always put them back on me when we get back.”

“So you do have a foot fetish,” Andrew says. Neil goes for the stairs instead of the elevator, because of course he does, and Andrew makes a point of hitting the elevator button with his fist.

“Nope,” Neil calls cheerfully from halfway down the stairs. “But you like my spooky pants!”

Andrew punches the elevator button again and tries not to fantasise about pulling those pants off him with his teeth.

At least, he supposes, going for a walk now means that Neil will overheat again and take some clothes off when they get back. And Andrew can always steal more blankets from his absent dorm mates, or find other ways of warming himself up while the place is still blessedly empty.

And if his hands get cold on the walk – well. Neil's hands are always very, very warm.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Andrew is reading IQ84 by Haruki Murakami because I say so. He is also offended by the notion of carrot cake because he has a reputation to maintain and Kevin might be pleased if he knew Andrew ate a vegetable. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr (annawrites)](http://annawrites.tumblr.com) for more silly soft writings and cat posts! *pistol fingers out of the room*


End file.
